Broken Soldier
by WithAnAngel
Summary: AU. ONESHOT. REWRITTEN. Sam had nothing here. In the real world, she had no family or friends. As a last resort, she joins the US Army. There, she becomes part of a family. But when even that is taken away from her, she goes insane.


**Author's Note: **Okay, so this story has been re-written! I hope it's okay, and a little more accurate now. I also added some parts in, whoo hoo!

**NOTE! IMPORTANT! READ! **Don't forget, this story is rated "M!" It is rated because it has violence, blood, and language. What do you expect? It's a war story.

**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on a film I once saw at a Film Festival. The plot solely belongs to the director of that short film, whose name I can't remember. ALL of the storyline is his own. I own nothing. The characters belong to Butch Hartman.

* * *

**Broken Soldier**

A young woman, no older than thirty, walks into her bedroom. She is of medium height and build, with straight, shoulder-length black hair. Her eyes are red and swollen, as if she has recently been crying. Yet, she holds back her tears, instead taking comfort in the quiet and peace of the room.

This is Sam.

Bright, warm sunlight filters in through the gaps in the curtains, casting dark shadows to play across her walls. Sam walks over to the window and brushes apart the curtains. For a minute, she stands there, staring out into the sunny September day. Birds chirp happily. Three small children laugh as they run around, playing with a ragged soccer ball. It seems incredible to her that there is still happiness in the world, joy and laughter. There shouldn't be. Not after what just happened.

Sam steps back, letting the curtains fall back into place. She turns around and collapses into her bed, barely holding back a sob. She blinks quickly, stopping the flow of tears she knows is coming.

On the nightstand in front of her is a picture of a man in full military uniform. He is older, probably in his late fifties. Sam reaches out and with the hand that is not wrapped around the pillow, picks up the picture. She stares at it, feeling a dark hole in her heart. Again, the tears threaten to spill, and again, she stops them.

She turns the picture around. Written on the back in neat, cursive writing is:

Jeremy Smith Manson

Purple Heart Recipient: Iran 1984

Sam lets the picture fall out of her hand and back on to the desk. Her eyes are burning, and her vision has gone blurry. The air is dry and thick. She gasps, trying to fill her lungs with air. The world is crushing her, weighing down upon her.

The empty glass of water at the edge of her nightstand wobbles. The picture lands beside it, and the gentle _whoosh_ of air is enough to knock it down. It lands on the remote and bounces off, rolling somewhere underneath the bed. The remote blinks red as the glass presses the POWER button. Suddenly the TV is on.

Sam looks up. The image on the TV is the North Tower of the World Trade Center. The entire top half of the North Tower is obscured by the smoke rising from it. BREAKING NEWS flashes on the bottom of the screen as the reporter's voice talks about the chaos gripping New York.

Sam watches, and suddenly, the tears she had been so determined to stop come flowing out, staining her skin as they flow down her cheeks. She makes no attempt to stop them.

-x-

Sam sits on a chair in an office. In the desk before her is a recruitment officer. The man seems to be in his late fourties. His graying hair is cropped short. He wears a white shirt, from which you can see the outline of muscles. His eyes have bags under them, as though he has been sleeping poorly. This mans name is Greg.

"Yeah, since the World Trade Center and Pentagon attacks we've had a good number of recruits such as yourself," Greg speaks. "Just sign that there and you'll be good to go," he says, pushing a stack of papers towards her.

Sam looks at him, then down to the papers, then back at him. She makes no motion to sign them.

"I tell you," Greg continues, "I wish I could be out there instead of sitting here. Friend of mine out of Saudi Arabia told me a few weeks ago that he was investigating a bombing on the Riyadh compound with a few other people. Good stories."

Greg stops and looks up at Sam. For a minute he seems uncomfortable.

"Is something wrong?"

Sam shakes her head and picks up the pen.

"No."

She lowers the pen and begins to write her name. Greg relaxes.

"Yeah, since nine-eleven those boys have been out doing their thing. Sometimes I wish I was there—being able to blow those Saudi terrorists to hell."

"I guess."

Greg smiles at her. "Don't worry. You're making the right choice."

Sam flips over to the next page. This page is full of questions. She reads one of them out loud.

"Reason for wanting to join the US Army."

She thinks for a moment, then scribbles in her answer: Purpose.

Sam smiles softly to herself. If this was any other world, and she was living any other life, she probably wouldn't be here. But here, there wasn't any other option. It was the only thing to do. Her father would have been proud.

-x-

A long clump of black hair hits the cold tile floor. Sam closes her eyes, feeling the razor glide over her head. She grits her teeth, willing it to be over soon. In a moment, the angry buzz of the razor falls silent, and Sam slowly opens her eyes, terrified of what she would see.

Staring back at her in the mirror is Sam with a crew cut. Sam reaches a hand up, slowly, and touches her hair. She runs a hand across the top of her head and shivers. It's as soft as peach fuzz. She blinks, and her eyes widen. She would have never chosen this cut if she'd had a choice.

The barber lady clicks her tounge, impatient. Sam quickly slides out of her seat. The woman turns the razor back on.

"Next," she calls out.

-x-

Sam walks out of the barracks with the other cadets—Danny and Tucker. These two are her crew members, and they all laugh and joke around, enjoying their time on the base together.

"Nice job kicking Tuck's ass in training today," Danny says. "I wish I had a camera."

Tucker's cheeks turn a light shade of red. "She did not kick my ass."

Sam laughs. Danny smiles. "I'd whip you too Tuck, if Sarge gave me a chance." He scowled. "The man won't even let me go to the bathroom without notifying him first."

"She did not kick my ass."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Can you blame him? You look like the type of guy who would detonate this whole camp for fun."

Danny waved airily. "Looks can be deceiving. Take Tucker for example."

"She did not kick my ass! Is anyone even listening to me?"

-x-

Sam lies on her stomach, holding a powerful rifle out in front of her. Up in the distance is a target, begging for a bullet. Sam grips the trigger. A drill sergeant is calling out to them. The recruitments. What is he saying? Sam focuses, and the drill sergeant's voice rings clearly.

"Set your sight!"

Sam looks into the scope and focuses. She can see the target more clearly now. To her, there is nothing on the world except her, her gun, and the target. She licks her lips. In the distance, the sound of a whistle cuts through the cold air like a knife. Shots are heard around her as the recruitments fire. Sam unloads her bullet into the target. Each hit is clean and precise. The sergeant smiles.

-x-

The sky outside is dark. Stars twinkle overhead, sending sharp pinpricks of light down on the grass. Only the way the sky is lightening on the east shows that dawn is approaching.

Another sergeant stands before the cadets, visually inspecting each one of them. His gaze strays a moment longer on Sam before moving on. In a second, he finishes and blows his whistle. There's a scuffle of movement as each cadet lunges forward, ready to take on the obstacle course.

Sam rushes forward, reaching a line of barbed wire. She gets down on her knees and starts crawling. The cadet in front of her kicks back, sending a cloud of dirt into her eyes. Her eyes watering, she blinks and continues crawling. In the distance she can hear the sergeant's voice.

"Come on! Move it!You can do it better! Faster! Keep moving! Do it again!"

She reaches the end of the barbed wire and stands up, proud of herself. She looks up at the wall looming in front of her, a rope hanging down. She smiles. If only her dad could see her now.

-x-

Sam, Danny, and Tuck sit together at a bar. Sam is watching one of the dancers, mild interest in her eyes, while Tucker is flirting with one of the bartenders. Danny is playing with his beer, tracing the mouth of the bottle with his finger. He seems distant. Suddenly, he talks.

"Next week, next week."

Tucker nods and turns to him, giving the bartender he was flirting with the perfect opportunity to leave. "I know! Can you believe we're actually moving up? Sarge gave me a half smile today. He must know I'm done for."

Sam laughs. "I doubt it's the end of the world, Tuck. Though, I hear our base is a good one."

Danny shrugs but nods. Tucker stares at him. Danny stares back.

"Uh, Tuck? Why are you staring at me like that?"

Tucker blinks and shakes his head. "Yeah, I can't take it anymore. I can't stand looking at your bald head for one more minute. Sorry dude. It's not you, it's me."

Sam rolls her eyes. "Get real, Tuck."

Tucker laughs and dodges the beer cap Sam throws. "Whatever. I'm tired, so I'm gonna go hit the hay. Talk to you guys later."

Sam and Danny murmur good night as Tucker stands up and leaves. Danny looks down at the half-full beer in his hand, then shrugs. He tips it and takes a big gulp. The other bartender, the male one, comes and refills Sam's empty shot glass. As he leaves, Danny notices the bartender give a quick glance at Sam. He tips his head back and looks at Sam.

"He's been checking you out, Sammie," Danny says, purposely using the name he knows Sam hates. Sam narrows her eyes at him.

"Right. Because all guys love bald chicks."

Danny leans in close to Sam. "It's hot."

Sam pushes him back. Danny laughs. He finishes his beer and stands to leave. "Kidding, Sam," he says. He smiles. "I'm tired too, so I'm gone. See you." He leaves.

Sam watches him go, smiling faintly. She turns back to the counter, surprised to see the male bartender standing there. He pours her another shot, never taking his eyes off her. Sam smiles in spite of herself. He finishes and offers the shot glass back to her.

"I'm Ethan," he says.

Sam nods, taking the glass. "Sam."

-x-

Sam and Ethan sit at a coffee house. Soft music flows from the speakers, the smell of coffee and chocolate wafting from behind the counter. Ethan smiles at Sam across the table.

"Is this really what you wanted to do on your last night here?"

Sam nods. She takes a deep breath and inhales the scent of coffee. "Yes. It's perfect."

There's a comfortable silence. Finally,

"Will I see you again?"

Sam takes a sip of the hot, foamy chocolate in front of her. "Yes." She pauses for a minute, studying Ethan. Then, she says, "You better wait."

Ethan laughs, nearly choking on his caramel mocha. "Wait? Of course I'll wait. I have to see you with hair sooner or later, right?"

Sam rolls her eyes and smiles. "Of course."

"Oh hey, I got you something," Ethan says suddenly. He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small, green army man toy. He hands it to her.

"Keep it with you."

Sam nods, moved by his thoughtfulness. "Okay."

They stand and throw their trash away. As they leave the coffee house Sam wraps her arm around his waist. Ethan wraps his arm around her shoulder. Sam rests her head on his chest as they walk, feeling completely content. Ethan smiles. He leans down and kisses her.

-x-

It's four in the afternoon. Helicopters fly around, making the air thick with dust. Soldiers run back and forth, carrying guns pointed at the floor. More dust is kicked up by their footsteps. Body bags litter the floor. Sam touches one, nearly caressing it. A single tear drops from her eye. She quickly stands up and salutes the corpse, as if embarrassed someone saw her emotion.

"Mother fucking bastard! Rot in hell, you crazy son of a bitch!"

Sam turns around, surprised. A soldier spits at a man as the man is forced into a tent. The man is dirty and ragged. He shows no reaction to the soldier's act, but merely glances away. His cheeks are gaunt, as though he hasn't been eating lately. Sam watches him. He is clearly a POW.

Sam shakes her head, but continues walking.

-x-

Three military vehicles patrol a town. In the third car is Sam's team. Sam and Danny sit in the bed of the closed cover truck, while Tucker drives. Sam's hair is longer now. Her bangs cover her face, her hair tied back into a messy ponytail, which reaches past her shoulders. Danny's hair is also longer. It covers his eyes, which have bags under them. He holds a sniper rifle by his side. Both look exhausted.

Sam looks out the window. They pass a few burned out cars and crooked street signs as they enter the town. Two small children play with a ragged soccer ball. Beside them, other boys patrol with AK-47s as though they were men. A mother is hanging laundry outside. She holds her baby in one arm. Behind them, older gentlemen sit smoking.

Sam looks back, and watches as Danny's fingers tighten around his gun. Apparently he had seen the little kids with the guns too.

Sam turns her attention back outside. How can something be so barren? she wonders. The streets and building have no color. It's as if all the joy has been sucked away from this dusty town.

The truck suddenly jolts to the left, throwing Danny and Sam around a bit. As if second nature, Sam points her rifle out the window. Her eyes scan the streets. Nothing.

"Switch to decaf, Sam," Danny says. She can hear the smile in his voice.

"Shut up."

Tucker's voice suddenly crackles to life through the walkie-talkie.

"You guys okay back there?"

Danny picks up the hand held. "Well, besides the fact that Sam just about crapped herself, we're fine."

Sam glares at him. "I said shut it."

Tucker laughs. Danny speaks into the hand held again.

"How long until we're back at base, Tuck?"

"About twenty miles."

The citizens outside suddenly stiffen, as if they know something the soldiers don't. The woman hanging the laundry drops the sheet she was about to hang, holding her baby closer to her. The old gentlemen puff out dark billows of smoke form their pipes, watching the vehicles in anticipation.

Sam smiles inside the car. "Good. Because I need a shower."

Tucker's voice sounds. "I think we all need a--" Tucker's voice is drowned out as a loud explosion rips through the vehicle in front of them. Sharp pieces of metal and shrapnel flying everywhere. The people on the street run screaming indoors. Tucker hits the breaks and both Sam and Danny are propelled forward. They crash into the thick, bullet-proof glass separating the bed and the truck and slide down.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!" Tucker screams through the walkie-talkie.

Before anyone can answer though, Sam hears a soft whoosh. She slowly turns her head to the side, looking out the window, and her eyes widen as she sees the missile coming right at them.

"GET OUT OF THE CAR!!" Sam screams into the hand held. Holding the hand held in one hand, she uses the other to grab Danny's arm and pull him out of the bed. She opens the back and jumps out, falling to the floor. She pulls Danny out with her.

The missile hits the car and the car explodes. Sam grimaces as she hears the shrapnel flying inches above her face. A piece of glass stabs her right leg. She bites her lip to keep form crying out.

After a few minutes, Sam slowly gets up. Danny follows, trembling slightly. Sam pulls the sharp shard of glass from her leg and throws it on the floor. Sam looks around. She finally spots Tucker lying under whats left of the car. Billows of smoke rise from both vehicles.

Danny runs over to Tucker and grabs Tucker under the armpits, dragging him to the first vehicle, where the soldiers are shooting at some unknown enemy.

Sam suddenly snaps back to reality as she feels the hand held in her hand. Fumbling, she turns it on and calls base.

"Team AI 1684, 1597, and 128b under attack near city square! I repeat, we're under attack!" Sam screams into the walkie-talkie. Static crackles on the other end. Sam throws the hand held to the floor and raises her gun up. She begins firing blindly into the air, kicking up a cloud of dust.

She runs over to Danny, who is dragging Tucker to safety with one arm, and shooting his gun with the other.

Sam looks down at Tucker. His legs are bloody and mangled. He appears to be unconscious. Fury grips her and she yells as she fires her gun without mercy. Bullets whizz past their heads as both soldiers run past the second vehicle. They're nearly there. Only ten more yards and they'll be safe...

A stray bullet rushes past their heads, barely missing Sam's ear. It strikes Danny in the head, and for a moment, he seems surprised. Then he drops to knees, then collapses on the floor, dead.

"NOOO!" Sam drops her gun and bends down. She desperately searches Danny for a vital sign, a breath, something. She bites her lip. He's dead. She reaches over and checks Tucker. He's awake now, and his eyes are wide with fear.

"There, there, Tuck," Sam whispers. She cradles his head in her arms. Tears spill from her eyes. "Don't worry, you're going to be okay."

Tucker tries to talk but instead makes an odd gurgling sound, choking on his own blood. Blood pours from his mouth. He's holding his stomach, which is also covered in blood. The car must have fallen on him waist down.

"Tucker, please," Sam says. "You'll make it! Just fight it!"

Tucker makes that odd gurgling noise again. He looks up at Sam, his eyes wide. Then, the shimmer in his eyes dull out. His head lolls to the side. He's dead.

Sam chokes out a sob, still cradling Tucker's head in her lap. Tears stain her cheeks.

Sam stands up. She takes one look at Danny and Tucker, then rushes back to her gun. She picks it up and fires into the dust, hoping to hit someone, _anyone_. They all deserve to die. Every last one of them. They took away Danny and Tucker... her only true friends.

A bullet flies through the air and hits her in her chest. She kneels down, dropping her gun. She can feel the cold metal of the bullet sinking deep into her flesh. It burns her as it goes inside, and she screams. She hears the sounds of footsteps as soldiers from the first vehicle spot her. Close by, she can hear the sound of a helicopter. More shouts. The gunshots grow alarmingly loud, pulsing through her head and threatening to break open her skull. She reaches over for her gun from her spot on the floor, but it's too far away. Her eyes grow heavy and start to close. Her vision begins to go blurry. And the noises. She wishes they would just stop, it's too loud, too loud...

-x-

Sam wakes up with a start in a cold, dark room. She panics as she notices that she is strapped to a chair. She can feel the rough material of cloth around her stomach. A bandage, most likely. She wants to call out, but her mouth is covered with duct tape. Images of Danny and Tucker swim through her head. Danny's blood is caked dry on her face.

As her eyes adjust to the low light, she can make out the soldier who spotted her sitting in front of her. He is tied up as well, and his right eye is swollen and black. He appears to have been beaten. His eyes are wide with fear.

Sam hears voices. She turns her head and sees two men arguing with each near the back of the room. One of them holds a gun. The one without the gun points at the beaten soldier and yells something at his partner in an unknown tongue.

The man with the gun sighs. He walks over and places the gun on the beat up soldier's left temple. The soldier whimpers and begins to shake uncontrollably. Suddenly, the man fires. Sam tries to scream but the duct tape covers her mouth. The soldier's head slumps down lifelessly.

The man with the gun suddenly realizes that Sam is awake. He shouts something to the other man in the different tounge, then walks over to Sam. He grins at her with mossy teeth.

"Hello," he says with a thick Arabian accent. Sam looks at him, fear overtaking her. She's paralyzed. She hears the sound of footsteps, then a door opening. The second man has left.

This man steps forward, and thats when Sam realizes she doesn't have her shoes on. Her feet are bare and on the floor. The man walks up to her, stepping on her toes. A quiet crunching sound echoes around the room. A tear rolls down Sam's cheek. She clenches her eyes as hoarse, ragged breaths escape from her nostrils.

The man finally steps off her toes, and Sam's body relaxes. The man walks away, staining the cold concrete floor with bloody half footprints. The front soles of his shoes are stained with Sam's fresh blood.

The man stops at a table, picking up some shadowed objects Sam can't see. He slowly turns and walks back, holding a light bulb and hammer in one hand. He grabs her right hand and Sam frantically tries to pull away, restricted by the tapes strapping her to the chair. The man frowns at Sam's unwillingness to cooperate. Wordlessly, he raises the hand with the gun and smacks Sam across the face with it. Sam's head snaps back and her eyes loll around her head. Her hand relaxes.

The man smiles and takes the chance to take her hand. He places the light bulb in it.

In a flash, Sam sees the torturer change. His features twist and become savage and wild. And suddenly, it's not a man at all. It's her.

Prisoner Sam's screams are muffled by the tape, and she thrashes around wildly, trying to get away from Torturer Sam. Torturer Sam raises the hammer and swings down. The sound of shattering glass is drowned out by a muffled scream.

The torturer smiles down at Sam, then turns and walks back to the table. Sam's breaths come out through her nose quickly. Her head snaps back up to attention as the torturer returns. He carries a long piece of cloth. He steps around behind her and ties the cloth around her eyes, covering her view. She can only see darkness now. The sound of a power drill sounds, and Sam whimpers. He pulls the trigger, and Sam can hear the sound of wood snapping. Sam starts to black out. The room before her spins and her soul weeps.

Suddenly, there's a crash and through the black cloth covering her eyes, Sam can make out light. Sam's world is still spinning, and she doesn't pay attention to much outside her world of pain. She blocks out the muffled shouts, the gunshots, and the sound of her torturer as he is shot. It doesn't matter. She just wants to go home.

Someone suddenly takes the cloth off her eyes, and Sam can see an American Soldier standing there.

"Don't worry. You're safe now," the soldier says.

That's the last thing Sam hears before she blacks out.

-x-

A month later, Sam lies in bed at a hospital. Her leg is wrapped in bandages. Her face is bruised. Deep scratches line her arms. A constant supply of blood and oxygen feeds into her from a tube. The monitor beside her bed beeps steadily, reading her heartbeat.

A nurse suddenly walks up to her. She smiles, happy that Sam is awake.

"I brought you this," she says, putting a Styrofoam cup with a yellow rose down on the table beside her bed. "I thought you might like it. Yellow signifies happiness and joy."

Sam looks down at the rose, but says nothing.

"Oh," the nurse continues, "when they brought you in here they told me that you kept murmuring something about a toy soldier. So I looked through some of you stuff and found this."

The nurse held out the little green army man toy that Ethan had given her. The base was melted, and the arms were bent, as though it was crushed beneath her gear.

"I hope it helps you feel more at home." The nurse places the little toy next to the rose and leaves. Sam looks at the rose, then the toy. Her eyes harden. There are no tears left. No pain.

A man suddenly walks into her line of vision. He wears a military uniform. He smiles at Sam.

"We want to honor you for being so brave, Sam. From all of us back at the army, here's a medallion that proves your strength."

He hands her a medallion and walks out. Sam looks at the medallion. Anger burns inside of her. She knows what this means. After a minute, she throws the silver metal into a wastebasket.

-x-

The plump gun shop owner stands behind the counter. He pushes a gun toward her.

"This one's beautiful, she is," the man says.

Sam picks the gun up. It's pretty light. She fingers it, studying the way it moves against her fingers, the way it feels.

"Yup, if you want to feel safe at home, this one's your gal." He pauses, then adds, "Rounds are cheap as well. Having a sale."

Sam ignores him, looking at the gun intently. She looks back up and nearly drops the gun. The plump gun shop owner is no longer there. Instead, it's Danny. She blinks, and she sees fire, destruction, smoke. Danny is dead. Tucker is dead. So why is Danny right there?

The Danny behind the counter pulls out a cigarette and lights it.

"Yup, beautiful work of art," he says. "Hey, when did you say you got back?"

Smoke. Sam sees smoke. Plumes of it, darkening the sky. Danny is smoking behind the counter. Sam raises her gun and fires. The man is dead.

Danny is dead.

-x-

_S_am sits on a park bench a few months later. Across the street lies a bar. Inside, she can see a man. Ethan. Sam smiles as she remembers the last words Ethan had said to her before she left for the army --"I'll always love you, you and only you."

She's about to stand up and walk over there when she sees a perky blond come up to Ethan. The blond smiles happily at him, then stands on tiptoe and kisses him deeply.

Sam's eyes again go cold.

-x-

The doorbell rings. Sam stands waiting outside the house, twirling her gun around her fingers. The door opens. The blond Sam had seen at the bar earlier steps out.

"Yes?"

"Is Ethan here?"

"Yes, but he's taking a shower at the moment. Can I take a message?"

Sam raises her gun and shoots.

Sam walks into the bedroom of her former lover. She can hear the shower running. Ethan is washing his hair. A trace of movement catches his eye and he turns around. Before he can say a word, the sound of a gunshot is heard. Ethan falls, dead.

Sam closes the door behind her as she steps out of the house. She stands on the sidewalk for a moment, unsure of what to do. The sound of laughter causes her to turn her head around. Two young boys are playing soccer in an alley. Sam blinks. She can see Danny slumped over, dead, beside the boys. Tucker lies close by, blood around him.

Sam blinks, and the bodies of her friends disappear. She walks over to the boys playing soccer, twirling her gun around her fingers.

-x-

Broken shards of glass litter the floor. A dark puddle of amber colored liquid surrounds the glass. Outside, muffled shouts can be heard as policemen communicate with one another. The flashing red and blue light shines against the blood splattered windows, casting shadows onto the walls. A siren can be heard dimly. Sam sits at a table. Her eyes are red and swollen, as if she has recently been crying. In her right palm, a fresh cut can be seen. Blood is flowing from the open wound. She shows no sign of pain.

Behind her, thrown carelessly around is a ragged soccer ball, bloody.

Suddenly, time stops. It starts again, moving backwards. The broken glass comes together to recreate a beer bottle. The amber colored liquid seeps back inside the bottle, filling it halfway. The bottle flies slowly up through the air into Sam's right hand. The cut in her right palm seals itself and the flow of blood stops. A screech of tires can be heard as the policemen reverse away from the bar. Sam stands up and walks backward away from the table, the beer bottle clutched tightly in her right hand. She reaches the counter and picks up a gun. The empty shells on the floor fly up and reload themselves into the gun. The blood on the windows disappears. People who were sprawled on the floor suddenly sit up and climb into their seats once more. The bar is suddenly filled with noise as the people begin to talk.

In a flash, everything changes. Shots are heard throughout the bar. Screams. Shouts of panic. The screeching of tires as nearby police officers come to help. Blood again splatters the windows. Time fast forwards and Sam is sitting back at the table, her right hand bloody from crushing the beer bottle, which lies broken at her feet.

She looks around the bar at the bodies. Her eyes show no expression.

On the table in front of her is a gallon of gasoline, as well as her gun. The broken toy soldier lies next to the gun. Next to that is a bottle of vodka with a rag sticking out of the top.

Sam looks out the window. Instead, she sees her reflection—tired, angry, revengeful. Her reflection suddenly changes, and instead of looking angry, it smiles at her.

"You're broken, Sam."

Sam takes a drink from a shot glass.

"What about the life I wanted? The life _you_ wanted?"

Sam stares at the reflection. "What about it?"

She takes out a lighter which was hidden in her pocket and lights the cocktail. The flames dance and flicker, eating hungrily at the cloth. Sam drops the bottle. All of a sudden, time slows. Sam blinks and she can see Ethan, Danny, Tucker, Greg, the gun shop owner, the beaten soldier, her torturer, everyone.

Time stops. Sam looks around. Two armed police officers break down the door, pointing their guns at her.

The bottle hits the floor.


End file.
